This is the second in the series of Inspection columns inspired by Bart Ehrman's Lost Christianites. His body: a metaphor for how little others have understood who he really was before and after, crucifixion.
As the body twitched and quivered into the arms of
Death; animals approached. They ripped out legs, broke off arms.
Scratching out eyes with claws, others attempted to shred and plunge
their way into his body so they might eat his heart. Yet for each body
part taken another grew. Despite this amazing regenerative ability, the
body was still a body; risen or not... nothing more: a mere vehicle for
the man, the prophet, the "Savior." To this day they still fight over
his carcass, regardless of the obvious, "He is not here."
As the years passed some animals were killed off by others, but
there were always thrice fold to replace them. If their goal was to
become the sole source for divining his message: they failed, for
others will always understand his message in their own way.
Who was this fellow, Jesus?
What best represents who he was?
His cup?
Crossing oneself when passing an altar?
His words?
Oh, we know what the most stringent of orthodox Christians believe,
not only because of the celebration of his birth placed at the end of
this disciple-like twelve month cycle-circle, but because that view has
long dominated humanity's vista; too often forced down our collective
throats to the point of "gag." If it were up to the most
fundamentalistic of the orthodox it would be all we are allowed to see,
all we could consider; something that must lead to severe punishment if
contradicted; as if just saying "happy holidays' instead of "merry
Christmas" is actually some conspiracy, or vile crime. We may not burn
or physically torment those considered heretics: those deemed
theologically incorrect much any more, but we often go way out of our
way to avoid offending those who use offense as mere method to silence
others.
I have always been intrigued by Jesus.
Who was this man that inspires so much devotion? Who was this
enigma who walked the sands of what is now Israel some odd 2,000 years
ago, whose teachings have spread worldwide? We know that the myths
which surround Jesus weren't born with him. They were around long
before Jesus was born. Other deities and prophets have been supposedly
"born of a virgin," or "raised the dead." There were many during that
time who claimed to perform miracles.
Jesus and stories about him have stayed with us. Not one of the
other wannabe stories can match the depth of that story telling, or the
amount of stories told; leaving fading footprints in the form of
footnotes being washed away by time... at best.
I am sure the orthodox would insist they; and they alone, have kept
the flame alive; firmed up his footprints so all can know the one, the
only, "true" religion. But what is "orthodox" changes, from Jews in
high positions who led Jesus to the cross, to the Puritans who fined
any sign of celebrating his birth. Yet Jesus lives on... not because,
but despite, orthodox attempts to maintain theistic purity.
Jesus has resisted being nailed down by any one group of believers;
any single sect, ever since he was born; probably on some date other
than what we celebrate. Throughout history, when the Catholic Church,
or otherwise orthodox, or Fundamentalists, have attempted to anchor him
to a singular kind of cross, he has ripped himself free. People flock
to him from all kinds of theological persuasions, and various
variations; interpretations, of his story. And his story has embraced
them.
New interpretations of his story have grown; become controversial movies, despite attempts to create serious shrinkage.
Christmas wrappings.
All these variations and interpretations remind me of Christmas wrappings.
The kind of Christmas presents Jesus still gives are actually
wrapped in interesting paper: learning from each other; through
discussion and the scholars who have studied and assessed the various
scriptures both in the Bible, and writings banned from it. The orthodox
have a long list of banned gifts. They're checking it twice. Snooping
into lives to decide who they consider naughty, or nice. But no matter
how hard they try, stories and interpretations of stories, live on,
revive: ripping themselves off of crosses and rise again.
The power of words is amazing, isn't it?
On a website called The Chimp, a few weeks ago, we
gathered; as often we do: believers and not, in what I consider a holy
event: discussion. One thread claimed Jesus was Black.
Here was my response to the "Jesus was Black" claim...
"This is only true if you accept the rather absurd
premise that racial make up is either Black or White: the same mistake
Neo Cons and rabid fanatics of all kinds make about life in general."
'A man of color?"
"Yes."
"Not 'white?'"
"Certainly."
"But even the question betrays, once again, our tendency to focus
on form, not substance, on the absurdly inconsequential rather than the
crucial."
"To paraphrase..."
'It's the message, stupid.'
"With the excesses of Nicaea, provable biblical alterations (see
Bart Ehrman's many books) and all we don't consider; there's enough
here to argue about and discuss. What did he really say? What did he
mean? Even the disciples didn't agree."
"Instead our arguments seem to center around the intellectual equivalent of what flavor bubblegum he might prefer."
I understand: my response seems to contradict all I've typed so far.
Imagine the most perfect Christmas gift possible. A gift to all.
One that works in so many ways; a gift that for a boy can be a bike,
for a girl a doll, for an old man a loving old woman to live his final
days with, a gift that makes otherwise self absorbed give unto
others... This, intended or not, is the gift Jesus gives us.
And I intentionally smeared my own cynical opinions all over one interpretation, one revision?
So, yes, by posting that opinion I felt more than a little guilty.
Who am I to criticize attempts to unwrap the gifts he continues to give
with one's unique perspective? Yes, who am I? "I" am the same as they:
a person with the right to contribute to that vision; not all that
unlike yet another stumbling, bumbling... always behind the Master and
his message, disciple. The very kind of person Jesus reached out to,
attempting to touch them with words... hoping they'll find meaning.
Hey, if it brings them closer to the message, then that's a
wonderful thing. I was also reminded of Klan members and suicidal
cultists who abuse this these gifts use Jesus as if he were a weapon or
some purer, holier than thou, hand grenade.
The story of Jesus means nothing if we cannot understand it; each
in our own unique ways, and attempt to bridge gaps between our
differences; learn from each other. I was simply sharing my own
perspective, hoping to learn too.
None of this is new. Indeed one must call it a "tradition."
Squabbling amongst followers is as old as his ministry itself. The
disciples fought amongst themselves. According to Bart Erhman, in Lost Christianities,
the Ebionites attacked those who would eventually become the more
successful; orthodox... winning side, if you wish... shortly after the
crucifixion. They believed, for example...
"Peter, not Paul, is the true authority for
understanding the message of Jesus. Paul has corrupted the true faith
based on a brief vision... Paul is thus the enemy of the apostles, not
the chief of them... a heretic to be banned."(Pg 184)
Let's flip this theological coin...
The Marcionites, of course, would have probably felt comfortable
switching Peter with Paul, Paul with Peter in that paragraph. Some
followers; various kinds; including some of the Gnostic sects, might
have inserted Mary in the authority position. Others, soon to be
considered orthodox, would consider Mary's gender closer to "enemy..."
a unique circular firing squad made up of the same names of quarreling
folk musicians.
Yes, I did manage to find some way to use that joke a second time,
if you remember my previous column on this subject.
Sue me.
My lawyers eagerly await your call at 1-800-SUE-AKEN. That's right, 1-800-SUEAKEN. Operators aren't waiting.
There are many stories of Paul and Peter visiting and revisiting
"churches," if one can really call them that during a Christian meets
lion era, attempting to correct what the other had taught. Are these
true stories? Well, let's just admit that the accepted text of the
Bible more than hints at such squabbling between disciples; so it seems
likely.
Little is known beyond the manger story until his ministry. Luckily, as Bart Ehrman points out in Lost Christianities, various stories have been snatched, sometimes literally, from history's fire; like The Infancy Gospels. One can be assured many of the stories in Infancy
were tales that Nicaea would never have approved in any version of the
Bible. Even if true, they don't reflect well upon the image they wished
to carefully craft. In one, Jesus strikes a child dead who won't play
with him: then raises him from the dead later. In another he models
bird from clay only to be told it was the Sabbath, so he gives them
life and they fly away. Not as bad as the first, but back when these
books were debated violating the Sabbath was more problematic.
After killing a teacher who punished Jesus for being a wise guy, pun intended, Joseph told Mary...
"Do not let him go outside. Anyone who makes him angry dies." (Pg. 205)
I ask again... are these stories true? Probably not. But like the
stories Nicaea accepted that many now insist must be true "word for
word..." can you imagine what they might be saying about those who walk
our streets and inhabit our TV screens 2,000 years from now? How might
stories about Bill Clinton, or Barack Obama, or George Bush, change
hundreds of years from now... thousands of years? And we have a lot
more power individually and collectively; a lot more sources to help
keep the stories straighter than they ever had. Not that we use them
all that well. The path has always been more than a little crooked. If
just a few years later some believe the poorly placed lie "Saddam never
let the inspectors in," what chance does truth have?
More of a chance than 2,000 years ago.
The light provided by our mass media culture is powered thousands
of watts, billions of pages, an almost infinite number of dots on
screens. And, yes, these are paths that the bleak, pitiful blackness of
convenient lies use. Yet all it takes is a few, maybe even one, to make
the light a bit more bright; less bleak. There are trillions of
individual avenues on which truth might ride worldwide, waves on which
might surf into our auditory canals... somewhere, somehow the truth
usually has a chance; no matter how small or insignificant. Back then:
pretty much none of the above. A story told and passed on may have done
so more slowly, but had much more unchallenged power.
The very word "gospel" has a double meaning due to just how
effective Nicaea was in establishing a claim of "absolute truth,"
insinuating that anything not "gospel" is a lie, a con, dishonest and
heretical. This was, perhaps, the ultimate attempt to glue, nail, spike
and weld the corpse of Christ into a cross of one design. It almost
succeeded, yet never will. Jesus, or at least his myth, is too powerful
to be held by any mortal sacrifices made in the name of one set of
believers or another.
While it is true that mass murder has been committed in his name,
without that name one can be sure those eager to commit genocide,
fratricide... as well as all the gruesome ways to slaughter each other
kill with or without a "cide," would simply find some other way to
contribute to the collective moral suicide of the human race.
Jesus didn't do this to us: we did.
Many of the words Jesus is claimed to have said point at us like
Marley. He is every ghost; we are Scrooge: hoarding what we think only
we have an exclusive right to, sharing what we have in pittances. His
ministry reaches beyond the grave, knocks on the door of the human
heart whispering, "Let me in." This is the real strength of Jesus and
his story, though those who claim to be the only true purveyors of his
message will do anything to convince you otherwise.
As the body twitched and quivered into the arms of
Death; animals approached. They ripped out legs, broke off arms.
Scratching out eyes with claws, others attempted to shred and plunge
their way into his body so they might eat his heart. To this day they
still fight over a carcass that should be gone by now, but keeps
regenerating. But despite this amazing regenerative ability, the body
was still a body; risen or not... nothing more: a mere vehicle for the
man, the prophet, the "Savior." They've displayed his supposed parts;
what he held or may have been wrapped in, a cup, piece of a cross... as
if they have magical properties and hold the secret to his powers.
Perhaps they will never realize, "He is not here."
From birth to death we have fought to be by his side, but too often
listen only to our own perspective, or insist those who agree with us
are his only chosen messengers; the only ones on his side. This battle
is reflected in the Bible, in all the books never accepted into the
Bible and in all the differing faiths. Most of all... it's reflected in
those so tired of how we treat such disagreements and discussions; the
single mindedness, that they shun the topic totally.
Jesus did not choose those who were closest to him who agreed with each other. Why have we insisted on doing so since?
I believe even if we misunderstand his message, Jesus would want us
talking about, discussing and reaching out to each other: attempting to
understand his ministry. The real miracle really wasn't fish and
loaves, walking on water or tears from some statue. The real miracle is
he lives on in our attempts to understand and be more like we think he
might wish us to be. This despite all we are told has to be; must have
been: nothing more and nothing else possible.
No other human in human history comes close to achieving this
miracle born thousands of years ago. It's not a flashy kind of miracle
like multiplying bread or walking on water, though one might argue it
is one way to raise what some the dead again and again... despite
bullets, bombs, beheadings and torture.
Miracles do happen. They're just not always quite what we expect, or believe, them to be.
-30-
Inspection is a column that has been written by Ken Carman for
over 30 years. Inspection is dedicated to looking at odd angles, under
all the rocks and into the unseen cracks and crevasses that constitute
the issues and philosophical constructs of our day: places few think,
or even dare, to venture.
© Copyright 2008
Ken Carman and Cartenual Productions
All Right Reserved